


Someone Needs To Sex Me

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brief Stiles/Danny flirting, Coda to S3E04, Dom/sub Undertones, Feels, First Time, Kissing, M/M, References to Derek’s past sexual experiences (i.e. past dubcon), Romance, handjobs, intimacy issues, sap, sub!derek, virgin!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:31:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s enough to make him go with a vague, shaky hunch – enough to make him put just a tiny bit of pressure on Derek’s chest, something that Derek could easily resist – but Derek doesn’t. Keeps his eyes closed and lets himself be pushed, and Stiles gently nudges him into the chair behind him, and – shaking the entire time – crawls into his lap and straddles his thighs, his heart kicking up even faster at the feel of Derek underneath him, and the almost lost expression on Derek’s face as he opens his eyes again.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone Needs To Sex Me

“You know, Stiles –”

“Jesus!”

“– I wasn’t actually kidding, yesterday.”

Stiles can only gape, his heart still slamming from how badly he’d jumped. For a non-werewolf, Danny can apparently move really fucking silently when he wants to – and then the words actually sink in, and Stiles can feel himself flush horribly. Clutches his books a little closer to his chest. They’re standing at his locker – Danny had snuck up behind him – and the hallway is mostly deserted, and when Danny leans up against one of the other lockers and raises his eyebrows, looking like sex personified, Stiles has to swallow hard before he can manage to talk.

“I, um.”

And – well. Perhaps _talk_ would be overly optimistic. Because his vocal chords don’t seem to be working quite right, yet, and when Danny’s expression pulls into a smirk, it just makes it even harder to think – especially when Danny reaches out and brushes his fingers across his chest, briefly, before pulling away, leaving Stiles doing his best to keep standing – because, yes. For all that he’s admitted that he’s in love with the resident unattainable alpha – emphasis on the _unattainable_ part – Danny’s still a really nice guy, in addition to being, you know, absolutely smoking hot, and Stiles thinks he can be forgiven for how red his cheeks must be right now.

“Just think about it, alright?”

And with a final little smirk, Danny pulls away, and Stiles gapes as he watches him walk down the hallway until he’s around the corner – closes his eyes and stands there for a long time as he tries to figure out what the hell just happened. For all that they know, now, that the virgin sacrifice part of things seems to have ended, he’d still really like someone to sex him, and if it can’t be Derek, then, jesus, Stiles would be an absolute fool to say no to Danny. Somehow gets his eyes open, and turns back around to put his things away –

“Jesus christ!”

His voice is several octaves higher than normal, because Derek is standing right there, his arms crossed across his stupidly muscled chest, eyebrows raised, and Stiles’ heart cannot take much more of this people sneaking up on him shit. Has to close his eyes for a moment, and then he opens them and gives Derek a halfhearted shove, even though he knows he won’t move him – knows it’s stupid to even touch him, but he loves that the summer’s gotten them to this point, where he knows he can get away with it; and he just can’t seem to keep his traitorous hands to himself.

“Dude, _not cool_. I thought we’d stopped with the lurking and scaring the crap out of me stuff.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Well, duh, you’re at _my school_ , I assumed it would be –”

“Now.”

“Hey, jackass – I was kind of the in the middle of something, alright?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh. And if you keep showing up like this, all broody and wrapped in leather, you’re going to scare away my suitors.”

“Your _suitors?”_

And that – that is the actual beginnings of a smile – barely there, but still so much more than Derek normally gives; and the sight of it is so fucking welcome that it makes a damn flock of sentimental butterflies take flight in Stiles’ stomach; and he can almost ignore the fact that he’s pretty sure that Derek is laughing at him. Almost.

“Yes, suitors, smart ass. What, is the idea that someone might be interested in me that funny?”

“I never said –”

“I’ll have you know that Danny there just offered to deflower me – which, yeah, granted, isn’t exactly our highest priority, anymore, what with the sacrifices changing, and all, but still, the guy’s smoking hot, and – dude, why do you look like you just saw someone step on a kitten?”

Because it’s true – Derek suddenly looks like he’s having an emotion that he has no idea what to deal with, something that seems to fall somewhere in between pain and confusion, if Stiles is reading him right – and Stiles actually spins around, half-expecting to see something horrible sneaking up behind him, like the time with the kanima. There’s nothing, though, and by the time he turns back around, Derek’s expression has become completely and utterly unreadable, in way that Stiles hasn’t seen in a long time. In a way that makes him more than a little uneasy, actually.

“Derek? What –”

“It’s nothing.”

“But –”

“I do need to talk to you, though. Can you come over tonight?”

“I – well, yeah, but –”

“I’ll be back at the loft after nine.”

And then he’s gone. Just like that, turning and walking down the hallway, and Stiles wants to call after him – wants to figure out where they just went wrong – but he can’t seem to find anything to say, and by the time Derek rounds the corner, leaving Stiles alone in the now completely deserted hallway, Stiles is still standing there, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

\- - -

By about eight o’clock, Stiles’ mind has latched on to an idea that it won’t seem to let go of; because, the more he thinks about it, the simple fact is that, from anyone else – if it wasn’t Derek – Stiles would be interpreting that reaction as jealousy, or hurt, or something equally insane – because how could that even be possible? Even if Derek swung his way, there’s the whole thing with their fucked-up history, and the part where Derek looks like he was chiseled out of marble and put on the earth to tempt all the mere mortals; and why the hell would Derek ever be interested in Stiles? Because while Stiles knows that, sure, he has some decent attributes, it’s not like he could ever measure up to _Derek Hale_ , who could probably have anyone he ever wanted.

And yet. The idea won’t leave him alone, as he sits on the edge of his bed and tries desperately to not let himself believe it – because if he actually lets himself take Derek out of that friends-only box in his mind, and lets Derek into the Stiles-might-have-a-chance-with box – well. In that direction lies madness. Being sixteen years old and in unrequited love is bad enough. Letting himself actually have pointless hope is only going to make things even worse in the end, and Stiles spends a good chunk of time trying to shut up his traitorous mind before he gets in his jeep and drives to Derek’s. Especially with the alpha pack and the string of murders, the last thing anyone needs right now is for Stiles to make things awkward. He and Derek have finally reached a place where they can actually work together – where they might even be sliding into possibly becoming actual friends, maybe – and Stiles would be a fool to do anything that could screw that up.

\- - -

“So, wait. Why the hell are you telling just me this?”

“Stiles –”

“Because, you know, if that psycho wants you to start murdering your own pack, then maybe that’s something that – I don’t know – the actual _pack_ should know about it, so you can all start working on some kind of solution together, instead of you defaulting to your lone hero routine, or –”

“That’s why I’m talking to you.”

It sounds ground out – they’re standing in the middle of Derek’s gorgeous loft, just the two of them in the entire giant place, glaring at each other, with Derek looking like having this conversation is actually physically paining him – and Stiles has pretty much forgotten his earlier emotional crisis, because this is way more fucking important than his stupid, _stupid_ feelings – even if he still doesn’t get why the hell Derek has come to him.

“I don’t get it.”

That gets him a sigh, as if Stiles is the actual absolute worst, and Derek is the most long-suffering person on the planet, for having to put up with him. When Derek finally speaks, it sounds even more like his voice is being pulled out of him, his expression twisting into that unhappy thing it does when he’s having an emotion that he really doesn’t want to be dealing with.

“Stiles –”

“Look, it’s awesome, and all, that you’re finally doing that fantastic thing where you actually get second opinions and extra support and make plans instead of just charging in by yourself, but Scott and the others should really –”

“I don’t trust myself around them right now.”

“But – why? It’s not like you’d ever actually –”

“It’s not – it’s not that simple, alright? I don’t trust him to not show up, and – manipulate me, in some way, somehow. Put me in a situation where killing one would save another, or something.”

“But –”

“Look, just – Stiles. You’re not the part of the pack that he actively wants me to kill, alright? Which makes you the only one I can be around right now. And, yes, I realize that that isn't particularly convenient, but –”

“No, wait. Just – hang on. Back up. What?”

_“Stiles.”_

“No, man, you can’t just drop a bombshell like that and not expect me to –

“What are you even –”

“Christ, Derek. Since when the hell am I pack?”

And his voice is actually shaking. His stomach is too tight. His mind’s shut down a little bit. He’s – Stiles knows, distantly, that he’s probably freaking out more than he should be – shouldn’t be reading so much into this – but, even if he wasn’t in love with the jackass standing in front of him, he’s pretty sure he’d still be flying apart, because – truly, since when the hell did he become a member of Derek’s pack? And maybe he’s not the only one freaking out, because Derek is looking unsure, suddenly, standing there in front of him, as though he had perhaps thought that Stiles had already figured this out – though how could he have? – and is now feeling all awkward and hesitant about actually saying anything out loud with real words and everything.

“Derek?”

“I thought you knew.”

“How could I have –”

“You plan with us. You train with us. I – do my best to keep you safe. I just thought –”

“But –”

“Unless you –” And Derek visibly hesitates again, damn near shifting in place in front of him, and, oh, lordie, Stiles’ stomach needs to unclench so he can think straight. “You don’t want to be. I know that the situation is – complicated. That our pack lines aren’t – as clearly set as they could be, what with Scott and I still trying to – figure out how we work together. And if you don’t want – if being part of Scott’s pack is what you want, and nothing more than that, then I can try to stop considering you part of mine –”

“What, did your wolf just wake up one day and decide I was under your protection?”

He’s aiming for sarcasm – because the alternative is quite possibly a full on anxiety attack, at this rate, because Derek is damn near babbling, more or less admitting that he wants Stiles in the pack, and Stiles just can’t deal with that – but his voice is still shaky, and he ends up with more desperation than sarcasm, and Derek stares at him for a second before he shrugs, looking a little bit helpless. It’s not a no – it’s far from a no, actually; if anything, Stiles’ guess was apparently somewhat accurate – and Stiles just stares back at him, feeling like he’s breaking apart inside, and there are suddenly words on his tongue that he really needs to bite down, because he’s just been handed something beautiful and he’s going to wreck it all if he doesn’t shut the fuck up –

“Do you like me?”

Brilliant, Stiles. Absolutely fucking brilliant. Way to ruin everything.

Except that – Derek isn’t frowning. Isn’t scoffing at the idea. Is, in fact, looking a bit like the quintessential deer in the headlights, even though his voice – when he speaks – is aiming for a convincing go at normalcy. It doesn’t quite get there, though, and oh, jesus, Stiles can barely breathe.

“I just told you that – you’re pack, Stiles. If you want to be. Of course I – like you.”

“No, but – do you –” And then he stops. Tries to find something less typical teenager than, _No, but do you like like me?_ Thinks of the look on Derek’s face, earlier on, and takes a steadying breath. “Today, I realized that, from anyone else, I’d have pegged you as – hurt. Or jealous. And then I spent all evening trying to convince myself that I was being stupid – but I wasn’t, was I?”

The last part – he doesn’t know how he gets it out. It’s damn close to a whisper, but he says it, at least, his chest going tight and something seeming to take flight inside him at the _sureness_ of what he’s saying – at the fact that he thinks he’s right, as Derek looks more and more freaked out in front of him – and when Derek doesn’t deny it – doesn’t do anything but stare at him, his eyes wide, Stiles – takes a long and steadying breath, and somehow makes himself take a step closer. Doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but he knows that he wants to touch, at least; and when Derek just stands there – lets Stiles move in close and put a hand on his chest – the slam of his heartbeat and the sudden, sharp breath that Derek sucks in make Stiles go damn near dizzy. Realizes, distantly, that Derek is looking almost frightened, now, and that that’s something Stiles should probably be paying attention to – just barely stops himself from trying to kiss him, and instead watches the sharp rise and fall of Derek’s chest under his hand, until Derek swallows hard and takes in another shuddering breath.

“You need to stop.”

“Why?”

“Because this is – this is a bad idea. This is not – we can’t – you’re _sixteen_ , christ, we can’t –”

“I like you, too, Derek.”

And that – that gets a noise that Stiles has never even imagined that Derek could make – something close to a whine as Derek’s eyes slam shut, though he doesn’t move away – and Stiles is on fire from the inside out, because he’s barely touched Derek yet, and Derek’s damn near close to fucking trembling. It’s enough to make him go with a vague, shaky hunch – enough to make him put just a tiny bit of pressure on Derek’s chest, something that Derek could easily resist – but Derek doesn’t. Keeps his eyes closed and lets himself be pushed, and Stiles gently nudges him into the chair behind him, and – shaking the entire time – crawls into his lap and straddles his thighs, his heart kicking up even faster at the feel of Derek underneath him, and the almost lost expression on Derek’s face as he opens his eyes again. It’s that, more than anything, actually, that’s getting to him, and he – can’t believe this is happening. Can’t believe that Derek is letting him do this. Can’t believe that Derek wants this, too – that Stiles isn’t alone in this. Breathes through the aching wave of affection and puts a hand on Derek’s cheek, slides his fingers across the rough stubble – meets that wide-eyed stare and makes himself put words together; because he needs to know, without a doubt, that he’s not doing anything unwanted here.

“Is this okay?”

His voice sounds shredded – nothing close to his normal rambling – and Derek just stares at him for a moment, mouth falling open a bit when Stiles traces a thumb across the edge of his lip – doesn’t know where the fuck his confidence is coming from, but he suspects it has something to do with the fact that Derek has shown absolutely no desire to take the lead here – and then Derek swallows, hard, and closes his eyes again, as though looking at Stiles from this close is painful.

“I’m supposed to be asking you that.”

_“Derek –”_

“We shouldn’t. You’re –”

“Forget me. I want this. I’m asking if you do, too.”

For a moment, Derek doesn’t move. Then, he nods against Stiles’ hand – a slow, hesitant motion, but a nod, nevertheless – and Stiles sucks in a breath at the new wave of heat, burning low inside him, and finally, _finally_ leans in to kiss Derek. Knows that he has no idea what he’s doing, but wants to try, anyway – keeps it slow and gentle, because Derek is so damn tense underneath him, and Stiles can already barely breathe. Just lets their mouths brush together – doesn’t even know what to do beyond that; he’s pretty sure that a bit more finesse than just sticking his tongue into Derek’s mouth would be appreciated – and puts his other hand up against Derek’s other cheek, doing something that comes damn near close to cradling his head; but Derek’s still barely responding, nothing but little hitches of breath as he opens his mouth, just a little bit, and Stiles – needs more. Needs to not feel like Derek’s going to shake himself apart in anything other than a good way, and he somehow makes himself pull back again, watching Derek in silence until Derek slowly – reluctantly – opens his eyes, looking almost wary as Stiles carefully strokes a thumb across his lip again.

“You told me you want this.”

“I – I do.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re about to freak out on me?”

Derek closes his eyes again – it seems to be a thing, with him, and Stiles is starting to think that, maybe, this whole face-to-face thing is a hell of a lot more intimacy than Derek can actually deal with – and swallows; and perhaps he’s waiting for Stiles to lose his patience and just kiss him again, but Stiles – to his own surprise, considering how wound up he is – is suddenly quite sure that he could do this all night, if necessary. Could just sit here and enjoy Derek’s slow breathing against him until Derek makes a move for more – and maybe Derek realizes that, because he finally speaks again, his voice coming out about as rough as Stiles feels.

“It’s been – a long time.”

“How long?”

“I - I don't –”'

“Sorry – stupid question. You don’t have to – you have a bed around here, maybe?”

It’s a clumsy deflection, yes, but he really, _really_ doesn’t want to dig into anything that Derek’s not comfortable not talking about – and then his breath gets damn near torn out of him when Derek makes a noise like he’s being hurt – something that somehow still manages to sound like gratitude, and, oh, god, apparently Stiles has _really_ called it right on not making Derek talk – because Derek is getting his hands up to cradle Stiles’ face, gently pulling him in closer, and –

Wow. So that’s what it’s like to be kissed.

Distantly, Stiles knows that he’s making noises that he should probably be embarrassed by, but Derek’s damn near panting, so Stiles thinks he can get away with it. Just clings to Derek and lets Derek kiss him – slow and gentle and with teeth and tongue and so damn fucking _thorough_ about it that Stiles thinks he might cry from it; because for all that he has no other experience, this, right here, feels like something a lot more than Derek just wanting another warm body to get off with – and by the time Derek frees his mouth again, pulling back with a final scrape of his teeth, Stiles’ lips are aching and his skin is burning from the stubble and he knows that he’s just as flushed and wide-eyed as Derek. Blinks at him for a moment – waits for Derek to make the next move – but Derek seems unsure, again, his hands sliding down to rest on Stiles’ hips as he drops his gaze down to Stiles’ mouth, away from his eyes, and Stiles swallows, hard, as he presses a careful hand against Derek’s chest, right over his thundering heartbeat, his throat tightening up and his stomach going all sharp and achy at Derek’s sudden slide back into his earlier hesitance.

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t want.”

He feels stupid the second it’s out – Derek’s a fucking _werewolf_ , and an alpha wolf at that; it’s not like Stiles could make Derek do anything – but Derek simply nods, completely serious, and then leans forward to press his face against Stiles’ neck as Stiles has a moment of desperately trying to work out the logistics of this. Tries to think over the incendiary scratch of Derek’s stubble on his neck – wants to get Derek’s fucking pants off, at least, but doesn’t even have room for that with the way he’s perched in Derek’s lap – and then he grits his teeth at the loss of contact as he slides off Derek, something clenching in his chest at the way Derek’s eyes fly open.

“What –”

“Can’t take these off if I’m sitting on you.”

And then Stiles slides down to his knees – feels absolutely fucking filthy as he does so, and it’s easily one of the best things he’s ever felt – and gets his shaking hands on Derek’s belt, and Derek – doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t close his eyes, this time. Watches him, wide-eyed, as Stiles undoes the belt, and then pulls down the zipper on Derek’s jeans, tugging on them until Derek gets the hint and raises up enough for Stiles to pull his jeans down around his hips. Bites down honest-to-god saliva at the sight of Derek sitting there, flushed and panting, with his jeans pulled down to mid-thigh, and then slides back onto his lap, ignoring his own fucking aching cock in favour of finding the guts to put a hand on Derek’s, hot and hard through the damp material of his black underwear. Can barely breathe when Derek whines and pushes up into the touch, before he catches himself, goes still again, as though not sure if he’s allowed to move, and Stiles wants to say something, but has no idea what, so he settles for stroking Derek slowly through the fabric. He might be the virgin here, but, if they handed out medals for jerking off, Stiles would definitely be getting the gold; and this, at least, he has some idea of how to do. Considers drawing it out for a bit, but Derek’s looking desperate again, so Stiles simply raises a hand to his mouth – can’t quite look at Derek as he drags his tongue across his palm, but his moment of feeling ridiculous, like he’s some newbie in a bad porno, is swept away under the blatantly needy sound that Derek makes – and then tugs Derek’s underwear down far enough to get his damp hand around his cock. Isn’t quite sure what kind of reaction he had expected, but the way Derek shivers and closes his eyes, his head thunking back against the chair behind him, is better than anything Stiles could have ever imagined.

“Good?”

He sounds, even to his own ears, like he’s the one with someone’s hand on his cock, but Derek seems to have gone pretty much non-vocal, so Stiles can’t be bothered to care. Waits for Derek to nod – the motion jerky, but still there – and then Stiles – he probably just needs to go with instinct, on this one. Knows what feels good on himself – hopes like hell that it will work for Derek, too – and he’s barely started to move his hand, feeling like he should be doing something else, here, too – getting his mouth on Derek’s neck, maybe, the way every person in every porno ever seems to like; but Derek’s a werewolf, so maybe the neck thing is out? – when Derek makes a broken noise and opens his eyes again, the colour there damn near gone, his pupils are so dilated. Simply stares at Stiles – Stiles never stops moving his hand, slow and firm and hopefully working for Derek as much as it would for Stiles – as though Derek wants to say something, but doesn’t know how – and Stiles gives him a second, and then he takes the decision away by leaning in to press his mouth against his chest. Stays away from his neck, just in case, and then feels a hot thrill of pride go through him when Derek’s hands rise up to cradle his cheeks, gently – painfully gently – holding him in place, his chest rising and falling sharply underneath Stiles tongue. Tightens his hand, slightly, and speeds up the motion – he’s literally jerked off probably a thousand times; this, at least, he can do – and then slowly works his way up to Derek’s collarbone, feeling insanely gratified at the way Derek is more or less going to pieces underneath him.

It comes to Stiles, distantly, that he’s shaking about as badly as Derek is – and then he realizes his mouth is at the very bottom of Derek’s neck, and he hesitates. Never stops the movement of his hand – can feel Derek growing even slicker underneath his palm, can hear him fighting for air – and then takes in a steadying breath that does nothing to calm himself down as he takes a chance and slides his lips up along the side of Derek’s neck. Gets nothing more dangerous than a whine for his troubles, and then Derek – christ, Derek is tilting his head, slightly, damn near baring his neck, and that, there, is Stiles’ breaking point. Has an image of what they must look like – him sitting in Derek’s lap in the middle of the loft, jerking Derek off as he scrapes his teeth underneath Derek’s ear, loving the way he jumps underneath him – and then Derek is groaning, spilling hot and wet all over Stiles’ hand, and Stiles has never been this turned on in his entire goddamn life. Can’t even fucking breathe, any more, and he helplessly pulls back to watch, Derek’s eyes slammed shut and his teeth sunk down into his lip and his expression all open and vulnerable and – easily the most gorgeous thing Stiles has ever seen – and Stiles somehow keeps it together enough to shakily stroke him through it. Slows the movement, eventually, and then stops completely when Derek puts a hand on his wrist – but Derek’s eyes are still closed, his chest still heaving between them, and Stiles has absolutely no idea what to do now.

For a moment, he just hangs there, shaking and on the edge with Derek barely having laid a hand on him – and then Derek opens his eyes, and Stiles has to swallow, hard; because Derek looks just as stunned as Stiles feels – looks lost, almost – and Stiles isn’t sure that’s necessarily a good thing. He can barely think, though; can’t speak, his dick throbbing and everything inside him gone all to pieces, Derek’s come warm and wet all over his hand – rocks his hips forward, just slightly; can’t help it, just like he can’t stop the pleading noise that sneaks out through his teeth – and then he’s jerking hard and grabbing on to Derek’s arms, clinging to him for support, when a giant hand suddenly cups his cock through his jeans. All the air seems to leave the room, and he just barely manages to keep his eyes open; because Derek is watching him, now, still looking stunned, all wide-eyed and flushed and actually the most gorgeous thing Stiles has ever seen; and then Derek squeezes once, then twice, and brings his other hand up to rest giant and warm on Stiles’ chest, stroking a thumb across his nipple through his shirt as he squeezes his hand again, and –

The world whites out. It’s Derek’s hands on him, and Derek’s eyes on him, and that’s all it takes; and Stiles damn near flies apart, everything inside him locking up and then releasing so hard it hurts. It feels like it lasts forever, and when he finally comes down again, he’s shaking and his face is pressed into Derek’s neck and his limbs are rubber; and it takes him a few seconds to realize that Derek’s arms are wrapped tight around him, holding him close against his chest – damn near cradling him there. It’s probably the safest Stiles has ever felt, and he breathes through the ache in his chest, and just holds on as tight as he can, never, ever wanting to let go again – and, for a few glorious moments, it seems like he’s going to get his wish. For a few moments, as the room slowly stops spinning, Derek simply holds him close, giving Stiles a chance to learn how to breathe again – but then, gradually, he can feel Derek starting to lock up underneath him again, as though ever single muscle is going tense; and Stiles must make some kind of protesting noise, because Derek goes still, again, and Stiles presses his face a little bit harder into the safety of Derek’s neck. It might be stupid to feel vulnerable now, of all times – but he does, somehow, and all he knows, suddenly, is that he doesn’t want this to end. That he desperately doesn’t want Derek to pull away and leave him alone.

“Can we just – stay here? For a little while?”

For a moment, Derek hesitates against him. Then, his arms loosen around Stiles, but before Stiles can – well, he’s not sure what to do with the spike of pain in his stomach, but he’ll figure out some way to deal with it, hopefully – but Derek isn’t trying to push him away. Just shifting around a bit, turning his face until his mouth is pressed damp into Stiles’ hair, and then wrapping his arms around him again, not saying a word as he tightens his grip, and – yeah. Stiles should probably be having an anxiety attack, right now – because not only did he just lose his virginity, of sorts, to _Derek Hale_ ; but apparently this actually meant something to Derek, too, judging by everything that’s happened, and by the way he’s threading his fingers into Stiles’ hair, slow and cautious like he thinks that Stiles might not notice – but all Stiles can do is bite back the itch in his throat and tighten his hold around Derek, feeling safe and wanted like he never has before.

\- - -

“Dude.”

“Dude, what?”

“Why do you – what – why –”

“Words, Scott. We use words, remember? We walk upright, we use tools, we –”

“But –”

“Oh my _god_ , what even is your –”

“Why do you smell like Derek?”

They’re parked in front of Scott’s house, and Stiles – in the process of closing his door – goes very still for a second – he really should have seen this coming, actually – before he closes the door and turns to look at Scott, who’s watching him all wide-eyed from the passenger seat. For a very brief moment, Stiles considers trying to talk his way out – but all he can manage do is shrug. It’s not like he’d ever lie to Scott about this – has never lied to him about anything, actually, and he’s certainly not about to start now – and he even finds a bit of amusement in the way he can actually watch Scott’s brain break when Stiles doesn’t even make an attempt to deny it.

“But – but –”

“Hey, man. You knew I had a thing for him –”

“But –”

“So when the opportunity, ahem, arose –”

“Is this about the sacrifices?”

Stiles feels the smile wipe from his face so quickly it almost hurts. Opens his mouth, and then shuts it again – but Scott simply raises his eyebrows, not helping him out, at all, and Stiles feels a scowl sneak across his face, the happy bubble inside him dissipating a bit at the immediate assumption.

“What, you think that’s the only way he and I would ever –”

“Dude, I’m just checking –”

“Because I’ll have you know that he – that I’m pretty sure that – that maybe I’m not the only one who had – has – a bit of a thing. Okay? So, no, Scott, unless I read everything _completely_ wrong, this was about more than just getting into Derek’s pants to save my life, so unless I’m an absolute idiot –”

“Good.”

“– then I’m pretty sure that – what?”

He cuts off his own tirade, because Scott’s smiling a bit, now, even if it still looks a wee bit pained – and Stiles probably can’t blame him for that. If Scott was getting it on with a surly alpha werewolf who had a world of issues and was about ten years older than him, then Stiles might be a bit concerned, too – but, still, Scott is definitely smiling, and this is definitely a good sign.

“So you – you’re not – I dunno, gonna go try to rip Derek’s throat out, or something?”

“Like I even could.”

“Not the point, man –”

“I’ll just do my best to not get in the crossfire the first time you two have a lover’s spat.”

“You’re not funny, you know that, right?”

“And, you know, if you want advice picking out flowers –”

_“Scott.”_

“– or choosing some nice restaurant to propose at –”

“I have never, in my life, wanted to be a werewolf more than I do right now. It would make it so much easier to maul you.”

“Then I’m happy to help. You just say the word, and I’m –”

_“Scott!”_

Stiles can actually feel the way his cheeks are flaming, flushed so hot it’s almost painful, and oh my god, Scott is officially the _worst_ best friend ever – or maybe he’s the best best friend ever, actually, because the next words take the embarrassed and irritated air right out of Stiles’ sails.

“I kid, Stiles. You know that. And considering how long you’ve wanted the guy – I’m happy for you, alright? I am. And – alpha or no alpha – if he ever does something stupid, and you want me to go kick his ass for you –”

“Yes, yes – if I ever feel like sending you on a suicide mission, I’ll let you know.”

But he can’t quite keep the gratitude out of his voice – because while it’s not like he needs Scott’s _blessing_ , or something, it’s still really fucking good to know that he’ll be able to count on him where Derek is concerned; makes something unwind inside him that he hadn’t even realized had gotten pulled all tight – and he’s still blushing, a bit, and Scott just shoots him a final grin before he turns forward again and leans back into the seat, crossing his arms behind his head and propping his knees up on the dashboard.

“So, tonight, then. Iron Man 3 or Man of Steel?”

Yeah. Definitely the best best friend ever.

\- - -

For two days, Stiles doesn’t see Derek.

There’s some pack-themed communication, at least – Derek asks him to pass along what the alphas want to the rest of the pack, which at least seems to clear things up a bit, given that Isaac is currently living with Scott, and both of them had been very confused and upset as to why – but he doesn’t get the chance to actually go visit Derek at all. School is kicking his ass – even with people getting murdered, and even with the fact that he spent an afternoon curled up around Derek in his loft, he still needs to pass his damn courses – but they text, a bit – mostly just Stiles babbling about whatever, and Derek sending his regular sparsely-worded responses – but it’s like nothing’s changed between them, and Stiles doesn’t know whether that means he should be nervous or not. When he had left Derek’s, that day, after a shower and after pouring himself into some of Derek’s overlarge clothes, Derek had kissed him at the doorway – hadn’t said a word, but had pulled him in, gently, and kissed him, his hands carefully sliding across Stiles' body through Derek's own clothes, until Stiles was aching in places that had nothing to do with lust – and then they’d parted, Derek still looking unsure and not saying anything, and Stiles had come home and fallen into bed and gotten a hand around his dick so quickly it made his own head spin.

After that, though, he’d then proceeded to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and try to figure out how the hell Derek had gone from _unattainable alpha_ to letting Stiles crawl into his lap and put his teeth on his neck while he jerked him off. Tries to figure out what, _It’s been a long time_ actually means – because given that Stiles was the one losing his sort-of virginity, there, it had sure felt a whole lot like he wasn’t the only one; and he really, really wants to know what the hell life did to Derek, to make him so hesitant. Wants to know why Stiles, virgin extraordinaire, was more or less in control of that entire experience, when all he’d ever pictured – fantasized about, for hours on end – was to be thrown down onto a bed and fucked until Derek had him screaming.

\- - -

Three days after The Loft Experience, Stiles hands in an important essay, damn nears runs out of the school, piles himself into his jeep, and heads downtown. Gets to Derek’s in record time, and then bounces up the apartment stairs. Only realizes how fucking nervous he is – heart racing and his chest gone way too tight – when he knocks on the door, and then he’s taking in a not-very-steadying breath and making his knees stay put underneath him when Derek opens the door, his expression carefully schooled at the sight of Stiles standing there. It’s not exactly what Stiles had been hoping for, and his stomach twists a bit, but he knows damn well that the guy has issues the size of mountains, and if Stiles needs to do some work, here, to convince Derek that this is still a good idea, then that’s fine. He can do that. He can do whatever it takes, actually, to make this work.

“So, uh. School’s been kicking my ass, and –”

“Stiles –”

“– or, ya know, I’d have come over sooner, but –”

_“Stiles –”_

“And I’m really hoping that you still think that this is a good idea, because I think it’s a fantastic idea, and I know you’re kind of giving me a look right now, that says that I’m full of shit, but –”

“You should come in.”

“– but that doesn’t make it any less true that this is a good idea, and – wait, what?"

And Derek – amazingly – almost smiles, a little bit, his lips turning up ever so slightly, even if he still looks ready to bolt; and when he steps to the side, Stiles probably gets into the loft with rather undignified haste; but he’s in, at least, and that’s all that matters. Stands there, feeling suddenly awkward, as Derek shuts the door behind him again – and then Derek turns to look at him, that smile completely replaced by hesitancy, and Stiles desperately wants to touch, but he doesn't know if that's the best decision right now, so he somehow keeps his hands to himself. Shoves them into his jeans pockets to do so, and then realizes he doesn’t know what to say, either – realizes that the silence is stretching, and that Derek’s looking almost nervous, again. Flounders, for a moment, and then makes a noise that sounds, to his own ears, exasperated, unable to believe how badly both of them are handling this.

“Look at us. It’s like we have the collective emotional IQ of a rock.”

It doesn’t get that little smile back, but he thinks he can see Derek relax the slightest bit, and Stiles – goes with his instinct, and takes a step closer, feeling stupid as he sticks his hands out for Derek to take, if he wants; but Derek isn’t looking at him like he’s stupid, and that’s enough to get Stiles talking again.

“Look, can I – hug you, maybe? Or – you know, manfully cuddle you, at least, if hugging’s too sappy. Cause, I mean, I’d really like to kiss you again, but if we’re treading new ground here, then some manful cuddling would probably be a good start, and –”

“I’m not going to say it was a mistake.”

“Oh, good, because it really, really – I mean, at least on my end, it was one of the best things I’ve ever – you’re a really great kisser, did you know that? And if you’re still interested, then I’m so, so very definitely –”

“But it’s been – years. For me. And you’ve never – with anyone. And I still don’t think this is a good –”

“Whereas I think it’s one of the best ideas you’ve ever had, actually.”

He hears the shift in his own voice – the way he goes from nervous babbling to so fucking sincere he could kick himself – but Derek simply stares at him some more, looking a bit lost – and then he seems to make up his mind about something, because he nods, and takes Stiles’ hands, and Stiles can’t breathe with how fucking grateful is he. Goes with what seems to work for them – tugs on Derek’s hands, gently, and feels his chest ache when Derek lets himself be tugged – and then they’re just staring at each other, barely any space left between them, and Stiles frees one hand to put it on Derek’s cheek. Had never imagined anything even close to this – had never imagined anything but rough kisses and rough fucking and the exact opposite of anything that involves sentiment – but it’s becoming glaringly clear that that’s not what Derek wants or needs right now, and that – that is more than okay with Stiles. So okay it’s threatening to take his treacherous knees out from underneath him again, and when Derek exhales shakily and leans into the touch of his hand, his eyes sliding closed, Stiles makes a silent promise to himself. Promises to find out exactly how Derek became so hesitant and unsure and so fucking touch-starved it’s almost painful to see –

But now today. Not right now. For now, he just wants to get Derek on the couch, or on the bed, and make out with him until neither of them can breathe. If he’s lucky, he’s going to have a long time to figure Derek out – to figure out who he is, exactly, and what’s made him that way. To figure out what’s made him take a chance on Stiles, in particular, when it’s so obvious that Derek has been alone for a very long time – but for now, though. He simply waits for Derek to open his eyes again, his cheeks a bit flushed under the press of Stiles’ hand, and Stiles smiles, and waits some more until Derek finishes staring at him – waits for that little, hesitant smile to show up again; a sight that Stiles is already adding to list of things that are absolutely fucking wonderful – before he leans in to kiss him. He keeps it as light as he can, and Derek goes still for a painful moment; but then he's sliding his arms around Stiles and pulling him in closer, his hands careful but sure against his back as he kisses Stiles like he needs him to breathe, and all Stiles can do is close his eyes and get lost in it, something inside him finally seeming to settle into place and sprout wings at the same time; and he never, ever wants to let Derek go again.


End file.
